"Laughter Is Hope’s Last Weapon"

Author and preacher Chuck Swindoll in his book Laugh Again opens with this line.

“I know of no greater need today than the need for joy.  Unexplainable, contagious joy. Outrageous joy.”  He quotes Flannery O’Connor who writes, “Where there is belief in the soul, there is very little drama . . . Either one is serious about salvation or one is not.  And it is well to realize that the maximum amount of seriousness admits the maximum amount of comedy.  Only if we are secure in our belief can we see the comical side of the universe.”

Do you laugh at yourself?  I do, especially when I catch myself in a funny moment.

Several years ago before moving back to our farm, I was spending some time the farm we call Sugar Ridge.  After a good night’s rest, I was suddenly interrupted from my sleep.  I rolled over and BOOM!  I fell out of bed.  Now I haven’t done that in years, since I was a kid or there may be a time or two.

What made this so bad was that as I fell from the bed, I twisted the sheet around in a mummy like fashion and I could not move.  I lay confined as Egyptian mummy there a moment, not being able to move and all alone.  With my back against the bed, I giggled at my dilemma and then yelled, “Help I’ve fallen and can’t get up.”  Someone asked, “How did you fall out of king-sized bed?  Simple, I slept too close to the edge.  After valiant effort of reverse twisting, I unrolled myself.  I laughed and laughed at myself.

I have found that the older I get, the more I find myself laughing at me.  Somewhere in my studies, I recall that laugher releases the endorphins that kill pain.  People ask me why I laugh a lot and always have a smile.  I hurt a lot!

Before retiring from Bethel Baptist Association, I started home for dinner and I decided to exit at the side door instead of the front.  Pam, the Associational secretary, and I must use a key to lock the front door and I did not know the location of my key.  The first step going down, or the last step going up, is a lulu.  It is inconsistent with the others.  Knowing that, I made sure to take one giant step then two small steps down, but I made one giant leap for dinner and the good for all mankind, especially for Bethel Baptist Association.

As I slowly pulled the door closed, I felt my double-jointed ankle roll over on the small step down.  I held tight to that tiny, shiny doorknob to regain my balance, but perpetual motion of a large body continued in an awkward and fast spiral descent toward the green grass that lay beneath.

Having a bag full of blueberries gracious donated to the good health of the director of missions by Tom Sessions, deacon from the Hope Baptist Church, I did not want them scattered everywhere.  I held them high as the green grass came quickly toward me.  Believing the arthritis commercial and knowing high school physics, I knew that a body in motion tends to stay in motion, especially when is a big body like me.  Experienced in falling, I knew to hit and roll.  As I started to roll, I realized that Pam had the bushes around the building pruned when large stubs from a bush/small tree tried to sever my spine.

As my back arched over one stub and two other stubs tried to puncher my kidneys, I continued my roll.  I lay on the grass for a few moments hurting and thinking, “I broke my back.”  I had no air, having knocked the wind out of me, and momentarily could not move.

I looked around to see if anyone was at the fire department next door, no one.  I looked to see if the neighbors were watching, not a soul.  I looked to the Linden and Robertson banks, the school, not a single person.  Where are folks when you need them to laugh at you?

Surprisingly, the blueberries remained intact and after a few moments, I collected my thoughts.  I had trouble breathing and figured along with breaking my back; I bruised my kidneys, and punctured my lungs.  In my trauma, I laughed thinking, “You clumsy ox, you broke your back falling in a bush. How are you going to explain that?”

I went home, looked in the mirror to survey the damage, which was a bunch of cuts and scrapes, changed my clothes which were permanently stained, and got some medical supplies to treat my wounds.

After Pam treated my wounds, the doctor examined my back and gave me the once over.  The doctor could not believe it was not broken.  In fact, it never bruised; I only had difficulty breathing the day of the fall.  Everyone said God was watching.  I said that I injured another guarding Angel.  I wander how many were under me were punctured with the stubs.

 

James 1:2 says, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations.”

 

Falling is not a laughing matter for the one falling.  I lost a former church member and friend to a fall a few weeks before my fall.  Some will say that life is serious and is no laughing matter.

Swindoll says, “Trust me, when you laugh in the mist of this cesspool environment, people want to know why. Laughter is hope’s last weapon.”

Laughter makes one look and feel better and is highly contagious.  In fact, I bet you laughed about me falling out of bed.  I just had a thought.  I wonder if it was an Angel that wrapped me as I fell out of bed.

 

A merry heart doeth good like a medicine (Proverbs 17:22a KJV).